


The Date

by LZClotho (LZielinsky)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Dancing, Dating, F/M, Intimacy, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Taking the next step
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-11 15:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15975059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LZielinsky/pseuds/LZClotho
Summary: One-Shot. Jean-Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher have been seeing each other romantically for a while, and a date provides the discussion about ending the secrecy.





	The Date

****The Date** **

****originally written (c) 1990** **

 

            Below him floated a green paradise against the endless backdrop of eternal night.  The man gazing on it reached out, touching the glass separating him from the peace of the sight.  His thoughts were anything but an echo of the planet's serenity.  In the silence he started at the swish of doors to the Ten‑Forward lounge.

            Jean‑Luc Picard pulled himself from the window and tugged at the crimson breasted tunic of his Starfleet uniform.  Turning to the sound a light smile touched the usually grim lines of his face.  His brown eyes swept up from black boots, over blue uniform, coming to rest on the smiling face of Doctor Beverly Crusher.

            Beverly, blue eyes sparkling, took another step into the quiet lounge.  Her voice, deep and husky, was soothing.  "I apologize for disturbing you."

            Jean‑Luc shook his head, thankful for their privacy.  "No need," he casually shook off her apology.  Taking a long stride nearer to her, he added, "I wanted to see you."

            Beverly considered his words a moment.  She was entranced, losing her unease to curiosity, watching his flashing eyes.  She moved to stand beside him and looked out the window.  "Beautiful planet down there," she murmured.  "Quite entrancing."

            "Pacifica is a rare place in this sector," Jean‑Luc heard himself say as he studied the doctor's smooth profile.

            “I've never seen anything like it," Beverly remarked quite honestly, lifting her eyes to meet his. 

            "Will you allow me the honor of showing you the pleasures of Pacifica?"  Jean‑Luc questioned, entranced, taking her hand in his as she started to lift it to the glass of the window.  All thoughts of discretion fled with the soft smile she had just for him.  His hand touched her arm.

            "What about Ambassador T'Khasi?" Beverly questioned without thinking.  She instantly regretted having refocused his attention, even momentarily.  His face, so light a moment before, lost its smile.

            Jean‑Luc stiffened in place, then let go of her arm and turned away.  She reached out only once, touching his shoulder in a gesture of apology.  He turned back abruptly.  "I've set Will on the details."  Then his smile returned.  "All right?"

            “So you're free tomorrow night?" she questioned softly, looking down at the toes of her boots before meeting his gaze.

            "Dinner?"

            Beverly nodded, then she chided, "Don't be late."

            Jean‑Luc smiled and laughed softly,"When have I ever been late for a dinner with you?"

            "Well, there was that time over Mulphar III...", the red head began, counting on the fingers of her left hand.  "...and Rutia IV... Then of course..." Her accounting was interrupted when Picard closed his warm, roughened hand over hers.

            "I think I have the idea.  What time do you want me here, ma'am?"  He bowed, an uncharacteristically playful grin on his face, as he kissed her wrist.

            "2100 hours, if you please," she teased, equally unmerciful in the exchange.

            "Your wish is my command," he replied incorrigibly, his brown eyes alight with mischief.

            Beverly tugged her long‑fingered hand from his and teased, "If that were only true."

            Jean‑Luc looked over to a far wall, noting the time.  "May I escort you to your quarters?"  He offered her his elbow.

            Together the two senior officers walked from Ten‑Forward.

            Back in the lounge, the wall chronometer chimed the lateness of the hour: 0200.  It was the only time the couple could find Ten‑Forward empty for their private talks.

            Even Guinan was not around.

 *

            Mornings for Captain Jean‑Luc Picard were to be smiled upon.    His life was full and he had good health for many years younger than he.  Picard felt this morning was different, somehow better, as he opened his eyes to a sea of stars beckoning from his window.  Rolling over to sit up, he looked at the face asleep on the pillow beside him.

            Smiling, the starship captain slipped free of the covers and donned a terrycloth blue bathrobe.  Turning to a vase on his armoire, he retrieved a long stemmed crimson rose.  Looking at the woman still sleeping peacefully, Picard placed the flower gingerly on his pillow for her to find when she awoke.  Then he disappeared into the bathroom briefly.

            Returning within minutes, face scrubbed, and wide awake, Picard studied Beverly Crusher, still quite asleep beneath the bedcovers.  Her glorious red hair spilled around her head in a swirl of innocence, a golden complement to the nearby flower. 

            Impatient to share their precious little time together stirred Picard to lean over, bestow a gentle kiss on  her smooth cheek and brush a soft tendril of hair from her skin.

            Beverly stirred, her body's suppleness communicated to Jean‑Luc, potently reminding him of the blood passion that had ruled them the night before.  Sleep clouded her eyes only momentarily, as she, like himself, held a position requiring instant alertness from the night's slumber.  Picard smiled as she noticed the rose and studied him, taking a deep breath of the flower's light fragrance.

            The memories of last night replayed so clearly it frightened her.  Their passion had taken them together to the edges of reality, beyond, and back again.  She tested her voice.  "Sleep well?" she offered when nothing else came to mind.  Disappointed that her brain refused to function, Beverly frowned.

            Picard's hand disappeared beneath the covers.  Beverly sighed as it ran lightly across her stomach, bringing exhausted passion smoldering to life.  "I did," he murmured, with his arms, bringing her against him for a kiss.  "Did you?"

            Beverly nodded and ran her open palm across his cheek.  "It's time for the bells to ring matins, isn't it?" she whispered.

            "Not yet," Picard laughed softly.  "No bells on this ship."

            Laughing with him, Beverly sat up and looked down at Picard as he lay on his back looking up at her.  "I could have sworn I heard them last night.  Just like the cathedral at Notre Dame that evening you took Jack and I so long ago.   Deep, resonant bells."  She realized even as she said it, that the sentiments she felt were being inadequately expressed.  She did not want this to sound like a schoolgirl crush.  But the words were said...

            Picard did not hide his surprise.  "You still remember that trip?  Good heavens that was over a decade and a half ago."  Picard sat up beside her bracing himself on one elbow.

            "I'm beginning to remember a lot of things, Jean‑Luc," Beverly replied, trying again, and smiled with a touch of deviltry.  "There's a lot more history between us to recall."

            Picard ran his hand over her shoulder, delighted to see her eyes cloud with passion again.  He began to wonder where this was going, but stopped quickly, unwilling to have that conversation just yet.  There would be time later he hoped.  "I trust there will be a lot more in the future that you will wish to recall."

            Beverly kissed him then, and they sank back to the bed.  Morning could wait a little longer to be greeted.  They stayed holding each other just relaxing in the memories of the previous night, as each recalled how they had come to this moment.

* * * * * *

            It was another dinner date, a lot like the ones they had been sharing of late.  Beverly had asked Guinan for a favor, without Picard hearing a word of it (which had been tough since Jean‑Luc tended to know quickly enough what was going on around him in his own ship, right down to the last youngster in the classroom).  He especially had a way of knowing exactly what Guinan was up to at all times.  Beverly had managed it.  The surprise would be for his eyes only, and their mutual pleasure.  Guinan had agreed quite readily.

            She closed Ten‑Forward at twenty hundred hours, shooing everyone out.  Beverly lent a hand in the lounge's kitchen preparing the dinner.  Guinan asked only once what kind of atmosphere Beverly wanted for this "date of dates." 

            After blushing hotly at the gleaming, but approving, look in the hostess's fathomless dark eyes, Crusher had requested a selection of quiet, romantic tunes.  Nothing more, she insisted.  This was to be a night where the rest of life was background while their relationship would be foreground.  Nothing would stand in their way tonight: no work, no children...  Nothing.

            Guinan provided.  About an hour before Jean‑Luc promised to be there, Beverly saw the entertainment.  Gathered on the stage stood a collection of string musicians.  All carried stringed instruments from a variety of worlds.   Guinan smiled at Beverly's surprised but pleased smile, saying,"When a simple request comes my way, I don't hesitate to fill it."

            Never would Beverly dream of asking the woman about the  group's origin.  She simply thanked her and accepted the secretive smile.  Whatever race she was with such intriguing powers, like the immortal Kevin Uxbridge, Guinan deserved her privacy. 

            Guinan worked quickly beside the doctor in the kitchen.  They finished and Beverly excused herself to change.  Guinan shooed the nervous woman out, promising to offer the captain a drink when he arrived. 

            Taking a moment to look at the bottle's label, the lounge hostess laughed: 2342 Arveddan Sherry.  That was a very VERY good year.  Guinan awaited Captain Picard's arrival with no less eager anticipation than Beverly. 

            She knew the tower of troubles that had been standing in the way of any relationship between the two.  It made sense to begin consciously removing those obstacles.  Guinan had a feeling about this match up.  The thought made her smile with cat‑like content.

            Jean‑Luc arrived, smartly dressed in very casual attire.  He wore light gray slacks, and a loose white button down collared shirt. 

            Conversely his manner was quite formal.  Guinan guessed correctly that he was nervous.  In his hands he held a carefully selected bouquet of exotics from the arboretum. 

            Guinan asked if she could take the bouquet aside.  Picard shook his head.  He needed something to do with his hands.  Guinan stepped back, fading quietly into the deep shadows to watch him.  

            Looking often toward the entranceway, and then annoyed with his preoccupation, the captain started to walk.  He took in the setting and tried to calm down his racing heartbeat and sudden attack of nerves. 

__It was just another dinner, wasn't it?__   Unable to find a suitable answer, Picard walked to the forward windows, watching the starfield shift ever so slightly as the ship continued on course at a leisurely Warp Three.   He tried to think of anything but the butterflies in his stomach.  Turning he found Guinan beside him once again.

            "Drink while you wait?" She held out a glass of deep red translucent liquid.  He waved it aside and took a step back.

            "I'd rather be at my best while I'm waiting, Guinan.  Perhaps you will tell me what she has planned?"  His nervousness increased. 

            The glass placed in his hand went unnoticed until after he had taken a sip.  "What is it?" he asked, the aromatic bouquet reminding him of something he knew he had tasted somewhere else, sometime else.

            "Arveddan Sherry.  I trust you remember it?"  Behind Jean‑Luc, Beverly stepped into the lounge.  He turned at the sweet sound of her soft voice. 

            Now he remembered.  "Quite well, yes," he replied honestly, trying to take his eyes from her form.  He studied her from head to toe and smiled, despite his chivalrous feelings that such perusal was impolite.   _ _Caution be damned__ , he thought, saying, "You look ravishing tonight."

            Hardly matronly, or even sedate, the chief medical officer did look at least another decade younger; maturely tempered enthusiasm put a glow to her face.  Dressed in a knee length skirt of pale peach and a loose‑fitting white blouse, Beverly Crusher was no doubt one of the most agelessly beautiful women Guinan had ever known ‑‑  _ _and she had known quite a few__ , she added silently.  Beverly was the perfect complement to the sedate elegance of the captain.  No wonder he was nervous.

            Beverly's earlier nervousness resurfaced at Picard's continued perusal.  An errant thought heated Beverly’s cheeks.  She started to drop her eyes from his face, then regained her aplomb. 

            Deciding turnabout was fair play, Beverly slowly lifted her eyes to his, taking in the captain's attire.   _ _He looks wonderful tonight__ , she thought, meeting his gaze again.

            Picard recalled his manners quickly, watching her turn the tables on him.  Beverly stepped forward, drawn by the intensity in his brown eyes.  She stopped when he spoke.  "I'm curious about this dinner you've planned."

            Beverly smiled and nodded to the far side of the room.  Picard looked to an elegantly set table.  The stage, only a few feet closer, was bustling with subdued activity as the cadre of musicians settled.

            "Care to dance before we eat?  I think a few turns around the dance floor will tantalize our appetites."  Picard accompanied his request with a palm upward in entreaty. 

            She studied him, for the moment uncertain. 

            "I very much want to hold you in my arms right now," Jean‑Luc continued honestly when Beverly started to drop her eyes.

            Beverly lifted her eyes, took his hand and nodded.  They moved to the intimate space before the stage.  The captain turned to the nearest musician, an Andorian seated before a Echo‑retender, the andorian relative of a piano.  "I believe we'll start with the Arveddan tune  _ _Min Yndling__ , sir."  Jean‑Luc saw Beverly blush under the musician's assenting smile and asked her, "It is the one you taught me?" 

            Her soft voice responded affirmatively and Picard took her in his arms in the starting formation.  Their eyes locked, both knowing it was more important to watch your partner rather than your feet.  He placed his left hand on the curve of her hip; her palm rested in his at his right side.  The musicians settled after discussing the chords and changes.

            Beverly closed her eyes, feeling the music swell to the first step.  The movement came without thought as she found easy rhythm in following Picard’s lead. 

            Their gazes touched, neither having the strength to look away; both fell deeper under a spell that had begun weaving itself, truth be told, since their first encounter fifteen years ago on Tau Ceti Three.  The attraction had defied definition then; it remained just as indefinable now.  Potent as an elixir, it remained a mystery to explore.

            Picard finally found words.  Turning Crusher under his arm and back into his embrace he asked, "Why did you ask me here tonight?"

            She dropped her eyes, and despite the long interlude of silence, Jean‑Luc did not push.  Finally, lifting her chin, she replied, "Our times together bring me a great deal of joy.  I can talk to you.  It's not something I do easily."

            "Granted.  What of the counselor though?  Aren't the two of you becoming quite close?"

            "In some ways." Then, "Do you mind that I seek your company?"

            Jean‑Luc shook his head and smiled.  Tenderly he caressed her cheek.  "No, I don't mind in the least.  Your friendship is a special pleasure for me as well."

            "Despite the fact that every time you look at me, you think of Jack?" Beverly tried hard to hide the disappointment she felt just thinking about the possibility.

__Ah so it was time for them to bare the truths, both past and present.__ Jean‑Luc laughed softly, saying, "Never."  Then realizing she might think he was laughing at her, Picard amended quickly, "If that is what you think is on my mind, you can't be as telepathic as Deanna seems to believe."  Jean‑Luc twirled Beverly once again, and continued when she was close to his chest.  "Let me put those thoughts to rest.  Yes, granted, I think of your husband when I look at you.  I also think of Wesley, and of duty.  Competing with all those thoughts, is the undeniable fact that I am thinking of impossible dreams: of you, of me, of things that can never be."

            Instead of responding to that sudden. almost laughably poetic declaration, Beverly dropped her head to his shoulder and remained silent, considering his words.  She concentrated on the dance and began to admire Picard's self‑proclaimed deplorable dancing skills.

            Beverly Crusher had never danced this folk memory from her home world with any male until teaching it to Jean‑Luc when they first met at the Academy in 2342.  That had been over twenty years ago.  Picard remembered every step, every move as she did, as if he had been born dancing it. 

            Onlookers would have been hard pressed to believe the captain rarely, if ever, danced.  He was leading her, even as ages ago on that hillside behind the Academy's Sciences Building, she had led him.  The music finished a full bar before the pair's final steps.

            Beverly caught her breath when the last moves of the dance left them tightly embraced.  She looked up into his face only inches away.  A flush crossed her features when he broke into a sedate smile.  "Hungry?" she offered, collecting her wits.

            Picard contemplated an entirely different answer.  After a moment he turned to the musicians.  "Thank you, gentlemen.  Perhaps we will return later."  Hands light on her lower back, Picard led Beverly from the dance floor, pulling back her chair as the musicians began to play another tune.  The light music swirled around them pleasantly. 

            Seating himself, Picard took a deep breath.  Emotions, high during the dance, settled to a more bearable level.  Picard reached for the open bottle in the ice bucket by his chair, no doubt placed there by Guinan who had conveniently disappeared.  "Sherry?"

            Beverly nodded as Picard poured.  She held her glass aloft.  "A toast."  Picard lifted his glass, waiting expectantly; she continued, "Alone at last."

            Picard smiled, and seconded the sentiment with, "No distractions."  Beverly blushed as she touched the rim to her lips and dropped her eyes.  Picard reached across the table and took her empty hand in his, setting his wine glass aside.

            "This is wonderful, Beverly.  Thank you for thinking of it."

          Beverly looked at his expression and interpreted it accurately.  The time had come.  Purposefully she set aside her glass.  "I must admit," she offered gently, "I was uncertain how you would react to my forward invitation."

            "And now?" Jean‑Luc queried behind his wineglass with a light smile.

            "I don't know.  I've been waiting a long time for this night to come to pass.  Now...?  I don't know what to say."  Beverly looked up and met his eyes.  She returned his reassuring smile and sat up straighter.

            "Then, may I?"  Picard stood and crossed to Beverly's chair.  With a hand lightly on her arm he drew her to her feet.  "I have waited an age to hear those words."  Melancholy memories touched his mind.  "I always wondered how it happened that you chose Jack, and I just left.  Our years at the Academy were days I never soon want to forget."

            "You never said anything to me.  We were friends, yes, the three of us... Walker, you and I.  I had no notion of how to make it any more than that," Beverly responded touching her hand to his chest in empathetic understanding.  "Then everything got away from us, I suppose."

            "I gave up too quickly," Jean‑Luc admitted.  "Jack was a dear friend, but I never stopped envying his life with you ‑‑ a life I had hoped to live."

            "When I was fresh from Arvedda III, you wouldn't even speak to me until Walker set us up," Beverly reminded him, her voice lightly accusing.  

            Jean‑Luc let his mind drift back to the incident and laughter bubbled forth.  "Good Lord, you're right.  I was rather distant in those early days.  It all changed when Walker took us out for a camping trip and left us.  I wanted to kill him when we returned to the base."

            "You never did.  The first two days I wasn't sure you hadn't laid all the blame on my head."  Beverly as they looked out over the starfield from a forward window, having walked there together.  "You swore up and down all night.  I heard you from the tent."

            "I was envious.  You managed to sleep on, oblivious.  I swear you were having fun.  I couldn't sleep the entire time it took to get back.  I spent all five days it took to get back taking cold baths in the creek we followed until my teeth chattered."

            Beverly studied Jean‑Luc’s face gauging the truth in that absurd statement. She found herself wanting to believe his words and wondered again what kind of fool she must have been these last years never to seek him out as had been her wont to do.  She had to ask.  "Jack's death was hard on you wasn't it?"

            "When I finally gave in to the realization that you and he were married, yes, Jack and I became closer.  I don't think he ever knew how I had felt about you... How I  _ _do__  feel about you." 

            Picard turned to Beverly and held her gaze.  Wistfully he touched her cheek, and traced the curve of it to beneath her chin.  He raised her chin on a forefinger to bring his lips to hers.  

            Beverly tasted sherry on his lips and relished the gentle insistence of his mouth on hers.  His arms stole around her waist; she felt the pressure and welcomingly gave in, leaning into him.

            Her hands touched his chest, the cool material barely a protection for him against the blazing heat of her touch and the heat it started within him.  Lightly he traced the tip of his tongue over her lower lip, then boldly tasted the honey inside.

            They drifted into that netherworld between reality and fiction which exists solely for lovers, slowly losing touch with their surroundings.  Beverly closed her eyes gladly shutting out reality and entered that other world without hesitation.

            But Jean‑Luc hesitated.  Beverly felt the moment he started to step back.  "We need a little sanity," he murmured, when she reluctantly let him go.  They shared a silent smile.  He was right.

            Beverly Crusher, whatever the reasons (she wasn’t examining them right now), did not care to end their encounter so soon.  She touched his arms with her hands and looked up into his face.  "How do you tell a friend you've wanted to make love with him... his arms around you... nearly two decades?"  She whispered; her passion made her bolder, but still she clung to uncertainty.

            "Like that," Picard responded, taking her hands from his arms and leaning in to kiss the curve of her cheek by her ear.  He paused and whispered,"I've wanted the same for as long."

            "Humans can be fools, can't they?" she murmured.

            He smiled. "But we learn from our mistakes," he replied, taking her hand.  As they passed the table, he bent close by her ear and whispered,"Will it keep?"

            Whether the food would have kept or not, Beverly probably would have said yes.  As it happened, she only needed to tell the truth.  "Yes." 

            Picard studied the shadows, taking the sherry bottle in hand.  "Guinan's in here somewhere.  She'll clean up.  We'll come back later."  He grasped Beverly's hand in his own, the warmth of their bodies mingling in that contact.  His pulse pounded ever so slightly in his ears.

            Hand in hand, the pair walked from Ten‑Forward making their way to the nearest quiet secluded place.  His quarters were only one deck away.

            Guinan stepped from the shadows moments after the pair left, and signalled the musicians with a wave of her hand.  "You gentlemen may go now." The platform was vacated in seconds.  Studying the abandoned tableau of food, she smiled.  "What I wouldn't give to be a bug in their bed tonight."

            Jean‑Luc and Beverly entered his quarters.  He called out in the starlit darkness, "Lights." Beverly, Picard's left arm around her waist, appropriated the bottle of sherry from his other hand and slipped from his touch.  "I think I'll put this in the kitchen," she said.  "Be right back."

            Picard did not let her go.  Restraining her, he took the bottle back, replying, "No, sorry.  I'm not impatient.  I'm rather hungry though."

            Beverly's smile turned devilish.  "We could return to Ten‑Forward and finish dinner?" she offered, allowing him to pull her into his embrace.

            Jean‑Luc growled low in his throat, sounding for all the world like a lion purring to its mate.  He molded her suppleness against him for a kiss.  "I'm not hungry for food.  Trust me."

            "I do," she answered, finding herself quite literally swept off her feet.  Ducking her face against his neck, Beverly tasted his skin with a nipping kiss as they moved to his bedroom.

            Jean‑Luc held her tightly against him with one hand and pulled down the bedcovers with the other.  Releasing her onto the bedsheets, Picard leaned on the edge next to her hips, and bent over to kiss her again.  She frustrated his attempts to caress the smooth skin revealed to him as the blouse parted.  Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and down across his back, as he slid the silken garment from her arms. 

            A gentle hand along her abdomen and he divested her of the skirt as well.  His lips tasted every inch he uncovered. Beverly's head fell back when he found the base of her throat.  She heard herself moan low, and closed her eyes.   _ _Was this really happening__ , she considered in barely a moment.   _ _Yes.__ She smiled.

            Crossing to the other side of the bed, Picard leaned back and, leaving a hand resting on her hip, started to unbutton his own shirt slowly, watching her.  Beverly reached up and moved his hand aside, finishing the task in short order.  "You are a beautiful man, Jean‑Luc."

            He sensed, embarassed, she meant the compliment in all honesty.  His hand closed over hers where it touched his bare chest.  He knew the time was right.

            "I want to make love to you, Beverly."  Picard smiled and kissed her collarbone.  "I want to become a part of you, and feel your heartbeat as my own."

            Beverly said nothing to that.  What could she say?  Instead she acted out the expanding feelings welling in her chest.  She divested him of his trousers, stroking the muscles of his legs.

            Caressing her hip, Picard rolled, hovering over her.  She watched his eyes take in the stillness of her form, and felt a hot flush suffuse where he studied.  "Do you blush to your toes?" he asked incredulous.  "I must investigate this."  He smiled moving lower.  His lips trailed over her shoulder and down the center of her chest, to her stomach, indeed now as flushed as her face.  A gentling hand stilled her shivers as he kissed the taut, smooth skin of her belly.

            Beverly felt the explosions of a thousands active nerves in her stomach where he touched.  Behind her closed eyes, she saw fantastic swirls of light.

            Jean‑Luc felt her hands on his back and sighed, his hot breath tickling her stomach.  His hand lowered, caressing the length of her legs.  Leaning back to watch the response in her face, he brought his hand slowly up the inside of her right thigh and watched her bend her leg in reaction.  Her eyes closed, as she succumbed to the intense sensations and warm touch of his hands.  Picard felt master and slave to her at once.  His own breathing quickened at pace with hers. 

            She sat up and studied his face intently.  "Enough," she said, pushing him back against the pillows.  "Close your eyes."

            Picard did as he was bid and relaxed, closing his eyes.  When she touched his chest so gently he felt himself tighten all over.  He opened his eyes, watching her obvious enjoyment at the exploratory she was doing on his body. 

            A caress, then two, so light she was, he was tense with wanting and she had yet to do more than touch him.  Her hand slid softly over the taut muscles of his stomach, and to the top of his left thigh.

            He felt the silky caress of her hair on his chest as she leaned over.  The touch of her lips to his throat took his breath away.  He grasped her shoulders gently, and sighed when her lips moved over his chest.  "Merde," he murmured, and could control himself no longer.  He rolled atop her, a hand gently caressing her woman's mound.  The wetness of her warmed his hand. 

            Picard vaguely realized he needed to slow down.  He was as close to the pinnacle as she, they would tumble over together.  Beverly touched his shoulder when he closed his eyes trying to calm himself.  When she whispered,"Love me," he knew they were lost.

            Bracing over her, feeling her hands on his waist, Picard entered her with one smooth stroke.  Beverly watched the muscles in his neck tighten.  Jean‑Luc looked down locking his intense gaze with hers, stroking himself within her with agonizing patience.  He saw the fire burning in her eyes, felt the heat of her all around him. 

            Suddenly everything converged.  Beverly tightened and stilled and Jean‑Luc could feel the explosion building from his very toes.  He quickened his pace slightly, but she held him still.  Her muscles clenched him.  Together they came in an earth‑shattering crescendo of sound and fury.  Their shouts commingled in the dark silence of the bedroom even as their flesh joined for that brief moment out of time and space.

            Beverly, her eyes closed as she tried to calm her senses, every part of her body clamored with sensation at once.  She put her arms against his broad shoulders, bracing his sweat‑glistening body gently as he collapsed against her.  He no doubt felt as exhausted as she.  Soon Jean‑Luc, bracing himself above her, kissed her sweat‑dampened neck.  Beverly hugged him as he rolled off of her slowly, every contact between their bodies a myriad of warm, intense sensation.  Picard nestled his head in the curve of her shoulder.  His body conformed to hers as he threw a hair roughened leg over hers.

            Beverly felt the strength in his shoulders as she caressed them; she sensed the complete relaxation of his every muscle.  Kissing his forehead and tasting the saltiness of his skin, she smiled.   

            Picard breathed deeply, restoring his body slowly, but still he remained far from sleep.  His hunger for this woman was still high.  He kissed her throat and murmured,"I do love you, Tiger."

            Beverly sighed at that name.  Ever since their days at the Academy when she had first earned that nickname from him as a determined medical student, she had wondered what it would be like to hear it in the loving tone he had just used.  "You're the tiger tonight, Jean‑Luc.  As it should be."  She kissed his cheek.

            Picard lifted himself slightly to look into her face in the dim light of his bedroom, and smiled.  His mind raced as he studied the subtle planes of her face in the shadowy darkness.  His ardor suddenly cooled as reality intruded on the fairy tale atmosphere and Wesley’s face coalesced in his mind’s eye.  He frowned.  "What will Wesley think of this?" he mused aloud.

            "Wesley?  Jean‑Luc, now wait.  Wesley is not to find out about this, understand?"  Beverly sat up, tucking the covers around her breasts.  She tried more firmly, again, "No."

            "I wasn't going to tell him, Beverly, relax."  Jean‑Luc caressed her shoulder.  "Honest," he said to her look of confusion.  “But it is something we should think about.”

            "I don’t think ‑‑"

            "Let me worry about Wesley for once.  I’ll think of a way to solve the  problem."

            "Care to let me in?" Beverly asked.

            "Your son is eighteen.  I don't want to give you up, Beverly.  If I have to, I'll ask Wesley straight out how he would feel if his mother and I were involved." 

            "Good Lord. You're crazy.  Wesley's been the ‘big man around the house’ for years now.  He might just take it in mind to react violently.  Can't you think of something better?"

            "I'll try to avoid physical resolutions at all costs."  Jean‑Luc replied drily trying to force her to smile.  Then seeing the covers had slid from her slender form, he felt his body respond again.  "All right, I'll leave it be ‑‑ for now.  Will you talk to him?"

            "You'll leave it to me?  All of it?"  She was frowning.  This serious talk had upset her.  She was not quite sure why.

            Picard soothed her gently.  "Yes, I will," he replied honestly.  "I'm sorry I brought it up.  Come here." Picard leaned back against the large pillows, pulling Beverly gently over his body. 

            She laid her head against his chest and sighed.  "I suppose we'll have to deal with it sooner or later."

            Jean‑Luc ran his hand over the curve of her backside, and said,"Let's make it ‘later’ then.  Right now, I think we have better things to think about.  At least you were right about that."

            Picard proceeded to make love to her again.  Intense and passionate, they joined heart and body for, at least, a brief night out of the impact of time.  Beverly and Jean‑Luc closed their minds to the outside world and concentrated in creating a magical here and now that would suffice in memory for the days and months to come.


End file.
